Arkhamverse 7: Alan
by iammemyself
Summary: He's having a hard time with the last one. Extended synopsis (requested by an anon a long time ago): perhaps a time where Nygma /doesn't/feel like his usual confident self? an odd moment of losing his self-esteem, even if it isn't to the point of hitting rock bottom. (... if there ever was a time, that is.) OCs are my Riddlerbots Nikola, Alan, and Ada


'Alan'

Characters: Riddler [Arkhamverse, prior to Arkham Knight], Riddlerbots [my OCs Ada, Alan, and Nikola]

Synopsis: He's having a hard time with the last one.

Extended synopsis (requested by an anon a long time ago):

perhaps a time where Nygma /doesn't/feel like his usual confident self? an odd moment of losing his self-esteem, even if it isn't to the point of hitting rock bottom. (... if there ever was a time, that is.)

It wasn't a good day.

Hadn't been a good day in a long time, really. Ever since the superprison had been shut down and he'd figured his own way of avoiding the buses back to the newest replacement for the defunct Asylum, he had just had this general impression of… fatigue. He was achieving greater things than he ever had. His structures were the most complex yet, his undertaking his most grand, and his _influence_ in this city had never been better. It was something of a secret, but aside from his general stake in Gotham he was Scarecrow's silent partner in his own bid for the Bat. Edward had everything. He should have been happy. Content. At the very least, _inspired_. But the longer this went on, the worse that feeling got.

He'd been wondering, lately, where the obsession ended and the man began. It had been… twenty years, now, just about. He genuinely was a career criminal.

Was it his imagination, or did that sound… _sad_?

All of this rumination, of course, was to distract him from the real subject at hand. This robot. It would be his third, and it was also supposed to be his most ambitious. He didn't really have enough scrounged parts to build it. The code for it kept crashing when he attempted to compile it and taking his laptop with it. He hated that thing – left over from his days at the GCPD – but he'd been loath to get rid of it because there were _sensitive_ things on it that he did not want to lose. And though it had been the most advanced computer he was able to build at the time, it simply could not compare to what he knew all these years later. It held up. But that was about it.

He put down the wire and the strippers he'd been squinting at and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was a headache starting somewhere in his temples. He was getting a lot of those lately. He had never used to; then again, things were different. He did know he wasn't properly hydrated anymore. Scarecrow had him on a tight schedule, and since _he_ didn't eat or sleep, now Edward didn't either. He'd been given months to carry out his plans, which were so ambitious they really needed _years_ to be realised properly. But he didn't _have_ years, and downgrading to something else was not an option, and thus the mess. Everything was half-finished. The trophies, the courses, the _riddles_. Everything except the most important thing, that was. The factory. He'd done what he could to start it off, but he simply could not build an entire facility like that along with all the _other_ things he had to do within the months he'd been allotted. And the kicker was, if he already _had_ the factory he would be _able_ to finish all the other things, because he would have help! He didn't trust the henchmen he had not to go down there and destroy his most important equipment, so he had to do all of it himself.

He snatched up the idling laptop and went upstairs. He was sick of working on this too, but he had to get _something_ done and if this were it would be _very_ helpful.

Once he'd sat himself down on the concrete sidewalk wrapping around the building, he lit a cigarette and pressed his back into the wall as he resumed his place in the code he'd been working on. Well, he looked at it anyway. He had no real way of telling what was wrong with it, because it wouldn't compile and so the compiler was not able to return any errors. He kept getting an error log from the OS itself from all of the system crashes, which he was increasingly becoming annoyed with himself for writing into it. He _knew_ what the problem was, and it was that this computer was too damned old.

 _Did you fix it yet?_ Alan asked him, having come up against his notice, and Edward sighed through his nose and said around his cigarette,

"No."

 _The robot? How is that going? Did you fix that?_

"I did not."

Alan crouched down beside him and looked at the screen. Edward had to quash an irrational desire to close the screen and fling the laptop into the darkness. Here it came. Again.

 _Can I look at it?_

"I'm fine, Alan. Really."

 _But you just have to –_

"Alan," Edward said between his teeth, snatching the cigarette with two of the fingers on his left hand, "don't you have something to be doing?"

 _Yes, but_ –

"Then go and do it. This is _my_ project. You have yours."

 _Your projects are better,_ Alan said, but he stood up. Edward pressed his free hand into his brow.

"Just… go. All right? Go."

 _I'll come back later_.

Before he could tell him not to, Alan had already gone.

* * *

Several hours later, having put the program aside (again), he was trying to strip some of the remaining wires of appropriate size he had left but… had not accomplished very much. His hands weren't the most stable at the moment. He had no idea the cause of that. It could be fatigue, obviously, and he hadn't eaten in a while. He was, admittedly, both tired and hungry. But neither of those things mattered, because the _real_ cause might just be age, and even though he didn't want to think about it, he was anyway. Years of stress and overwork and armour-backed fists were beginning to wear him down, despite his most valiant efforts. He just… wasn't what he used to be. His mind was considerably better, sharpened by experience and refinery, but…

 _Yes, Eddie, you are getting old_ , he thought to himself, putting down the wire and strippers again.

Old to be doing this, anyway. He was going to need to put some serious thought into retiring after this.

 _Oh, you came back inside,_ Alan said, appearing from an adjoining room Edward hadn't quite finished. _I can help with that._

"I don't need help!" Edward snapped. Alan halted in his approach.

 _Are you sure?_

"I can do it _myself_." He snatched up the articles again, but now he was too angry to strip the wire. And it had to be done right the first time, because he did not have all that much of it left. The real problem was that the cutters were too dull. They weren't notching into the sheathing properly. They just kept sliding up the plastic and infuriating him. He'd sent Nikola out a while ago to find some more, because all of Edward's suppliers had dried up after the Arkham City incident, but he really didn't know where a very large robot who was not all that bright was going to find any. He'd just needed to get Nikola out of the factory for a while, since Edward was working on this and not anything that required Nikola's particular skills of heavy lifting.

He made another attempt at getting through the plastic; the tool instead skidded sideways and sank into Edward's palm, between his thumb and forefinger. He dropped the wire and cutters both.

" _Dammit_ ," he muttered to himself, jamming the wound into his mouth before blood started to seep from it. Stupid. He'd done a stupid thing _doing_ a stupid thing. It really was time to pack it in, wasn't it. Give up. Move on. He wasn't going to finish this project in time, or the factory, or anything else. It was time to just… admit it.

He couldn't do it.

He'd spent so long doing this and coming up with so little. All of this work got him nowhere. It was the same cycle, over and over again, only more elaborate and risky each time. The first time, he'd been smart. He'd done it and, once he realised the game was up, had disappeared. The second time, not so much. And so on. Continually upping the stakes, increasingly making himself the final hurdle. Only now he was his _own_ final hurdle, and he could not overcome it.

He was sitting in the basement of a toy store with his hand in his mouth, probably barely different from some little boy who had sat down on the floor above with _his_ hand in his mouth, and truth be told he did feel somewhat childish just then. The mantras he'd been repeating to himself and to Alan were beginning to ring hollow. _I don't need help, I can do it myself_ were the protests of a little boy trying to tie his shoelaces, not those of a grown man trying to build a robot that just might be beyond him.

Oh, but he didn't _want_ to have to accept… not from his _son_.

 _You have to let me help with that_ , Alan said, and he might even have been chiding Edward a little, but he was right. If Edward tried to deal with this injury himself, he was going to bleed all over the place in his attempt to do so. He nodded and looked away, offering his hand. Alan's hands were cold but deft, cleaning and wrapping the cut in less than a minute. He barely felt the sting of the antiseptic over that of his embarrassment.

"Thanks," he muttered when Alan released his hand. He folded it into his other one and stared down at the offending wire.

 _Can I try it?_

It was either that or Edward switched hands and proceeded to stab himself a second time. "All right."

And of course, because he was a robot, Alan perfectly stripped it within moments on his first try. Edward took off his glasses and pressed his fingers into his eyes. He wasn't supposed to be jealous of his robots. That served no purpose. He wasn't a robot. He was _greater_ than a robot.

A robot had just outperformed him.

Yes, but that was because Alan was _Edward's_ robot.

So he'd made himself obsolete.

Sometimes, Edward wished his thoughts had an off switch.

 _Dad?_

"Mm," he said, in automatic acknowledgement.

 _If you'd let me help with this, it could be done a lot faster. And you could work on your other projects again._

He drew his knees up and placed his elbows atop them, still holding his glasses in his uninjured hand. "I'll tell you something, Alan."

 _Okay._ Alan sat at his most attentive.

"I don't need to build this robot."

Alan looked at him sideways. _Then why would you if you have other things to do?_

"Because those things are…" How to put it without sounding totally incompetent. "I'm being rushed. I have to complete all of those projects faster than I want to. And they all have to work. They cannot fail when I put them into practice. This robot… I don't have enough parts to finish it. It's just a distraction from all the other work I have to do."

It felt kind of nice to have said it, honestly. But it was useless all the same, as Edward was the only one who could fix his own mess that he had gotten himself into.

 _Who's rushing you? Can't you tell them you need more time?_

Edward shook his head. "It's time-sensitive. A very narrow window of opportunity. Not to mention for a friend who won't have the chance to do this again." He honestly didn't know _how_ Jonathan was managing to hold up. He seemed to be living out of pure spite.

 _I can help._

Edward closed his eyes. Before he had a chance to say anything, Alan had put a hand on his arm.

 _I know you want to do it yourself, but look at the facts, Dad. You don't have the time. You could do this on your own if you weren't on a schedule, but you are. And I'm here to help you stay on schedule, aren't I?_

"You were," Edward said. He wasn't so sure anymore. He certainly wasn't sending Alan or Nikola to do any dangerous tasks, that was for certain. "This one is just… for personal reasons."

 _Of course,_ Alan said. _You can't work_ all _the time. And you work too hard. Let me do this while you go… sleep for a while._

It sounded a good idea, and he would definitely partake in the latter. He was beginning to have trouble keeping his eyes open. He stood up slowly.

"I don't have the parts to finish anyway. Just leave it. I'll go lie down and we'll get something done that needs doing when I get back."

He'd gotten halfway out of the room when Alan called, _Dad?_

"Yes."

 _I think this needs doing most of all._

He'd made Alan too smart.

* * *

He slept too long – at least two hours, when he'd meant for one – and when he went to the refrigerator in the staff room of the defunct toy store he did not find anything in there he felt like eating. He wracked his brain for something he _did_ feel like eating. Nothing came to mind other than –

No, there wasn't going to be any of _that_ anytime soon.

He settled for a package of baby carrots and a bottle of water and returned to whence he'd left Alan. He was still there, and Nikola had joined him. He gritted his teeth a little. If he hadn't made Nikola so big he would have had the parts for this third robot, but there was no point in getting upset over it. He hadn't seen farther than Nikola at the time. He sat down and pulled open the bag, taking out one of the carrots.

"What have we got?" he asked before biting into it.

 _Well_ , Alan said, showing him a variety of connections made while he'd been gone, _Nikola found a spool of wire so I used it for these. I hope that was in the direction you were thinking._

It was, it really was, and though he was a bit jarred by his not doing it himself, he forced as much calm as he could. "Good work," he said, a little more gruffly than he meant. "Don't tell me you fixed the other problem as well."

 _I might have,_ Alan said, and he pushed Edward's laptop across the floor to face him. _I wasn't able to compile it, but it looks ready for release._

"Do you know what it is?" Edward asked, who had actually said that in an attempt to be sarcastic and was now even more annoyed with himself. Alan really _was_ making him obsolete. Alan shook his head and Nikola, not one who understood this sort of thing, remained silent.

"AI, similar to yours," Edward told them both, "but the most complex and innovative ever written. This robot will be the most advanced in all the world."

 _Of course it will_ , Alan said with confidence. _You made it._

Sometimes Edward forgot they had no frame of reference. Still. He'd take the compliment.

"Which is partially why I didn't… accept your offers before, Alan," he continued. "This is to be one of you. It would be a little odd if you were to assist me in constructing your own sibling."

 _Dad_ , Alan said solemnly, _I would really like to do that._

Edward folded his hands together and looked down at his keyboard. He needed a new one; the backlight was broken and some of the keys were missing. He suddenly felt very tired. He wasn't who he used to be, and he didn't know at which time that had happened. He had been meticulous, once, about taking care of his things. Not to mention himself. God, what had _happened_ to him?

 _Nothing happened to you. You're fine. The past always shines more brightly than the present._

True, but –

 _There's nothing to protest! You're where you should be._

He supposed he could be, not that he had the time to believe otherwise right now. He didn't have the time to have an existential crisis. It was going to have to wait a few months.

"All right then," he said, to distract himself from that useless train of thought. He directed the computer in Alan's direction again. "You take this."

They worked quietly for a time until Alan said, _Have you named her yet, Dad?_

Edward looked up from the pieces he was screwing together. "You think this is a little sister, Alan?"

Alan sat back from the computer a little and gripped one of his thumbs. _Yes, I think so._

"Well," Edward said, squinting at the microscrew he was working with, "in that case only one name will do. And that name is Ada."

 _Who was Ada_? Alan asked then. They both knew they were named after someone else; Edward had told them that a long time ago. Edward scratched his nose with the screwdriver.

"Ada Lovelace was a very smart young lady who lived about a hundred and fifty years ago. She was far more educated than most women of her time and is believed to be the first computer programmer. Some contest this by saying Babbage's Analytical Engine never saw realisation, but," and here he waved his hand, "that is nitpicking by people willing to ignore her algorithm. She saw the face of the future and was determined to be a part of it. She was a mathematician and a scholar, and if ever I had cause or ability to travel back in time I would do so to meet her."

 _I thought you wanted to meet Tesla,_ Nikola spoke up, a little petulantly, Edward thought.

"Yes, well, they were both alive at separate times, Tesla after Lovelace. Technically, Tesla is on the way."

The answer seemed to satisfy Nikola, because he sat back, returning to watching them work. He _had_ said he wanted to meet Tesla. Honestly it would be a bit of a difficult decision if he had to choose between them.

When he was finished, Alan helped Edward with some of the finer points of putting together a small robot, and though he was uncomfortable at first… it became quite nice, to work in tandem with someone of equal skill and prowess. He'd never really been able to depend on someone other than himself before, and though it irked him a bit that this someone was his _son_ , who despite being mere weeks old was his equal _already_ , he had to admit it was a good feeling. Comforting, almost. It wasn't… just _him_ anymore. There were other people now, people that _liked_ him and _wanted_ to help him, and not because they wanted something out of him, either.

It had only _taken_ forty years.

 _How long will the installation take?_ Alan asked, after the work was more or less complete. Edward took a second to work out his back before answering.

"A few hours."

 _That's a long time_. He sounded markedly disappointed.

"Not in the grand scheme of things," Edward assured him. "She will be up and running soon enough."

A few hours was enough time to get cleaned up and go out to get something to eat. He only remembered he'd brought the carrots for that purpose when he accidentally kicked half of them across the floor as he stood up. Both Alan and Nikola tracked them intently.

His mouth thinned as he crouched back down to collect them in one hand; he didn't know if they would fit, but he would make them if he had to. Once he'd done so he tossed them in one of the industrial garbage bags containing construction leftovers and left the room, stifling a yawn. Slept too long and yet not long enough.

* * *

When Edward returned, somewhat refreshed by the break – not really, but somewhat – Alan was sitting intently in the same place and Nikola had left. Nikola was a bit simple, as well as impatient, so Edward was not surprised. He sat down next to Alan and looked at the screen.

 _Almost_ , Alan said, and Edward noted he was gripping his thumb again.

"And no problems, I see," Edward told him, as the installation log showed no errors. "Good work, Alan."

Alan sat a little straighter and folded his hands together in a patient gesture. This was nice as well, having someone to look forward to things with. Nikola had not cared for Alan's construction, nor the first few days of having him around. He wasn't supposed to, but Edward found himself wishing he had a bit more interest in his siblings. Then again, he hadn't _asked_ for any.

 _Do you know what she'll be like?_ Alan asked after a moment. Edward shrugged a little.

"That's for her to decide."

 _Do you know if she'll be friendly, at least?_

"Not really." He fingered the bandage on his hand absently. "Why?"

Alan was _again_ holding his thumb. Edward wasn't so much irritated as confused as to where he'd picked that up from. _Well, it's because… I like Nikola but he's not very friendly._

Ah. "Nikola is… different from you, Alan. He simply doesn't have your capabilities. You're an _improvement_ on him."

 _Which means Ada is an improvement on me._

"You could put it that way, yes."

 _So I wasn't what you wanted_.

Damn. He should have seen that coming.

"That… of course that wasn't the reason, Alan." His headache, almost forgotten, was now poised to increase. "You and Nikola were both precursors to my greater plans. You far exceeded any expectations I had. You weren't supposed to be as… complex as you are." By which he really meant he had never anticipated viewing them as their own entities, rather than tools with which to complete his projects. "You were just supposed to be… helpful."

 _You don't let me help you with anything!_ If Alan pressed his hands together any harder, he was going to break them.

"That's only because the way I saw you _changed_ ," Edward tried to explain. "You were _better_ than I had intended you to be. I can hardly dismiss you as a mere drone when you are obviously so much more than that, can I?"

Alan inspected the floor in front of him. _That doesn't explain anything. I was supposed to help you, but then I was better than I was supposed to be. Therefore, I should be even_ more _helpful, therefore you should want my help_ more _. But instead you want it less. That doesn't make any sense._

He was right. It _didn't_ make any sense.

He pulled up his knees and braced his arms atop them. "Alan… the explanation is that, were you what I had intended, you would have helped me because I told you to. Because that was your job, your purpose. Because you would have been unable to refuse, to think. Now… it's more like asking. And I don't ask. So I do it myself."

Alan looked up at him. _I still don't understand. You don't have to ask. I ask all the time. Look, Dad. I know the truth._

"And what truth would that be."

 _You have limits. You made us_ because _you have limits. Nikola is stronger and I am smarter than you will ever be. And it's not your fault. You were made that way. I wasn't sure, but it seemed like something you were trying to keep to yourself, so I didn't mention it. And I won't mention it again. But I already know._

Edward took as deep a breath as he could, which was necessary, because all he really wanted to do right now was get up and throw something with as much force as possible. He'd known. He'd known all along, and he'd been _babying_ Edward so as not to hurt his feelings. Incredible. He pressed his hands to his now undeniably painful head and closed his eyes.

He got it now.

This was it. This was how other people felt when they realised they weren't the smartest person in the room, when they'd thought they were until _he_ walked in. He'd created something more powerful than his own brain, and it made him feel… small. He wanted to cry, actually, but that was out of the question. How stupid it had been to do this. It would have been _different_ , were Alan the drone Edward had planned on in the beginning, but of _course_ Edward had had to improve the AI, make Alan far more able to think for himself, and of _course_ he had given this ability _to the smart one –_

 _But Dad, I was thinking about it. Because I didn't understand why you would build something better than you are and then not want it. And then I realised we_ weren't _better._

"Where did you come across _that_ conclusion," Edward muttered into his pants.

 _Well, I was thinking about that really cool self-repair function you have._

"My _what_?"

Alan took hold of his arm and, confused, Edward allowed it. He was no less baffled when Alan carefully unwrapped the gauze around his injury.

 _See?_ Alan said, with one indicative free hand. _It fixed itself._

Well, it sort of had; a few hours wasn't near enough time to actually do so. But Alan didn't seem to know that.

 _If that happened to me, someone else would have to fix it,_ Alan said with what may have been excitement. _Maybe I could. But it wouldn't fix itself._

When looked at that way, it was sort of… neat. He wrapped the hand back up and replaced his arms where they'd been.

 _And I was thinking,_ Alan said, still sitting closer than usual _, about how Nikola is stronger than you, but really it's all about weight restrictions and I believe your internal structure simply doesn't support masses above a certain upper limit. Does that fix itself too, when it breaks?_

Was he talking about musculature or bones? He decided on a middle-of-the-road approach. "Yes, but not without flaw. It causes permanent damage, of a sort."

 _And I don't think I'm smarter than you about_ everything _. I think there are many things you know that I don't. I think my saying that bothered you, but I only meant to state a fact._

Edward discovered he was stacking his thumbs one atop the other and forced himself to stop. "And you did."

 _But I couldn't figure out what Ada was for. What was her purpose? Is she going to be greater than it too?_

Edward looked over at the gently booting robot and beyond, into the dark walls of the unfinished factory. "She doesn't have one. I just… wanted to."

And it was a truth he hadn't realised until now. Ada was possibly the first thing he'd done in _years_ that had nothing to do with his ongoing battle with the Detective. She just was. Because he'd wanted her to be.

 _I think that's the best reason_.

"Alan," Edward said abruptly, deciding it was just best to spit it out without preamble, "I'm not disappointed in you."

 _What are you disappointed in, then_?

Well, _himself_ , obviously, but he could hardly say that. "Nothing. I'm just not used to… being outdone."

 _I will be very subtle_ , Alan said solemnly, and Edward almost smiled.

"I'd appreciate that."

He stood up, pressing the heel of one hand into his forehead. If he didn't get something soon for this it was going to turn into a blinding migraine and _that_ he just did not have time for. He was loath to take medication of any kind, but some things just didn't go away.

 _You'll be back soon, right_?

"Mm." He wouldn't be gone long.

When he got to the staff room and found the medicine in one of the cabinets, he opened the refrigerator and sat between the door and the rest of the appliance as he drank back two of the capsules with a mouthful of bottled water. It was a technique that sounded quite stupid when he tried to explain it, but it helped. It didn't make him any less tired, unfortunately. He badly wanted to rub his eyes even though that never really did anything. Habits like that were odd little things.

 _Dad, I know you don't like beds but I don't think this is a better place to sleep._

"I'm not sleeping," he said, a lot more quietly than he would have thought. "I'm just sitting here for a minute."

 _You left half an hour ago._

Belatedly he realised that his eyes were closed, and that he was groggy, and also that he was stupendously cold. He sat up straight, pressing his palm into the floor to orient himself. The water had slipped from his fingers and now the bottle lay mostly empty in a pool of liquid.

He had somehow actually fallen asleep in the refrigerator.

"Why are you here," he asked, in an attempt to distract them both. Alan offered one of his hands, and Edward took it though he didn't know what he'd meant by the gesture. Not until Alan pulled on his arm, ostensibly to help him up.

 _The installation finished. You said you'd come right back so I thought you forgot._

His headache was still lurking in his temples. He pressed at them as he said, "No, I..."

He didn't have an excuse. Not for doing something so stupid. Who fell asleep nestled against the shelves in a refrigerator?

 _Let's go_ , Alan said, ignoring the sentence fragment either out of courtesy or because he hadn't noticed, Edward couldn't tell. And he set off without seeing if Edward would follow. He rubbed at his eyes and pushed his glasses back up and did so.

The both of them sat back on the floor in front of the dormant robot. Edward, despite having just slept, was exhausted. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to be here. He didn't know _where_ or _what_ he wanted, but not this. Any of it.

 _Can I turn her on?_

"Go ahead," Edward said with disinterest. Alan paused in his forward reach.

 _Do you want me to… wait? You don't seem like you really want to do this._

"Don't presume what I want," Edward snapped, and Alan looked away.

 _I wasn't, I just… I'm trying not to take over your project, Dad._

"You're not," he said, in the calmest voice he could force. "You may continue."

Alan resumed, pressing the usually-hidden power switch secluded in the robot's frame. It took a few minutes for Edward to guide the setup via his laptop, but once that was finished he pushed it aside and observed.

"You may need to guide her," Edward told Alan quietly. "She has higher degrees of processing and perception than you do. All of that information may be confusing at first."

Alan nodded and moved across the floor, stopping when he had more or less positioned himself overtop of her. He raised one hand, somewhat shyly Edward would have said. _Hi._

She didn't move for about a minute, and then she very slowly raised her arm off the ground and held it up, a mirroring of his gesture. Something eased in Edward's chest. She worked, at least. There was that.

Alan sat back and took her arm, pulling her up with him, and she didn't find her balance immediately. It took her a few moments to figure out where to place her hand so she could brace herself, but she managed it soon enough. She seemed apprehensive, the way one of her hands was curled into herself, but she also didn't seem to want Alan to let go. When he did, she looked a little startled.

 _It's okay_ , Alan said reassuringly. _Don't be worried. You're safe here. You'll always be safe here._

He watched silently as Alan helped her with the basics of locomotion; it pained him a little that he wasn't the one doing it – he was her creator, after all – but both Alan and Nikola had been unnerved by him that first day and so he decided patience was best. She was more cautious than the both of them, probably due to her increased thought processes, and she would define him by how she saw him initially.

He found himself biting his tongue at the thought she might decide to reject him entirely.

 _Well, that would be her prerogative. You knew that when you were coding that section._

 _Still, it shouldn't even be a_ possibility _to her! How can one reject someone one doesn't know?_

 _Easily. You know that._

He sighed and got up. There was nothing more to be done here. Alan would no doubt attempt an introduction when she was ready, and by the way she had attached herself to his arm, she was not going to be ready anytime soon.

The thought was not a pleasant one.

* * *

He was having a very nice dream.

He hadn't had one of those in an extremely long time. Usually he just had… well, he didn't need to think about it. But in this one, someone was rubbing the top of his head. He happened to like that quite a lot, but no one had done so in _so_ many years. He had no idea why he would be having such a dream _now_ , of all times, when he was tired and –

He didn't remember going to sleep, come to think of it. When he came to that realisation he opened his eyes to see only a vague blurriness that seemed to indicate he was facedown on his desk. He hoped he hadn't hit his head too hard. He didn't believe so, indicated mostly by his lack of headache. It was nice that _that_ was gone.

But he still felt like someone was rubbing his head. His eyes were open, and he was awake. Was he hallucinating? Was he really _that_ far gone?

He lifted his head.

It… it was Ada. She was sitting on his desk in front of him, and she quickly withdrew her hand when she noticed him looking. He sat up and ran his hand through his hair a little hesitantly. Where had his glasses gone?

He found them to his right, and busied himself with cleaning them. When he'd done that he inspected them, glancing at her as he did so. She seemed tense, but she didn't turn away.

"Alan informed you of me, did he?" he said, as casually as possible. "Good things, I hope."

She nodded without reservation, which caused him to drop his glasses. He had to look them over a second time.

"Oh," was all he could get out of his mouth. He stood up, and she immediately dropped over the side of his desk and stood next to him, looking up. He looked down at her in turn.

"What."

She just kept looking at him expectantly. He didn't know why she wasn't talking, but he hoped it wasn't because he had missed something.

After that, though, she would not leave his side. For anything.

She followed him _everywhere he went_. Upstairs, downstairs, in the tunnel, if he went outside for a cigarette there she was. It was unnerving at first, not to mention _annoying_. But every time he started to snap at her he remembered that she wasn't really _doing_ anything. She never said anything, and wasn't really in his way. She did lean on him at every opportunity, but… he didn't really _mind_ that. And he had someone to talk to. He had no idea if she was _listening_ or not. He preferred to believe that she was. He liked her company. She was… calming to have around. And she gave him _so_ many _hugs…_

It was odd, really, that of all the things in the world she could do, she decided to spend every second possible with him.

He smiled to himself whenever he thought of that. Of all the things he'd done of dubious merit, _this_ was something he seemed to have done right.

 _You never used to do that, you know._

Edward looked up from the prototype trophy he was building. He shouldn't have left this so late, but they were easy to mass-manufacture. Especially since the factory was back on schedule. Within the week he would have all the robots he needed.

"Do what?" He had done a quick runthrough of all the things he was doing just then, and he clearly remembered doing them in front of Alan before.

 _Smile_.

Alan sat down in front of the both of them and picked up one of Edward's screwdrivers. Edward, for once, didn't know what to say.

 _You weren't happy before, were you._

Edward supposed it had to come out some time. He also supposed that he could lie, and pretend otherwise, but lying to Alan would be like lying to himself, only worse.

"No. I wasn't."

Alan stabbed the screwdriver into the floor with a rather large amount of hostility. _That's not fair._

Edward put down the pieces, lifted his arm from where it was draped over Ada, and moved her over as gently as he could. "Alan – "

 _I tried!_ Alan interrupted, twisting the tool into the wood planks. _I tried so hard and it wasn't good enough!_

 _Shit._ Exactly the sort of thing he had _never_ wanted to hear.

"Alan, don't take it like that," he said, as soothingly as he could. He didn't know whether or not it had any effect. "You were made for –"

 _I was made to be smart, I_ know _,_ Alan stated with a surprising amount of venom. It suddenly crossed Edward's mind that he would be defenceless if Alan became violent towards him. He tried not to let it worry him. _That's all I'm supposed to be, the smart one. I don't_ want _to just be that! I want to be like_ her!

"You _can't_ be like her," Edward tried to explain, hoping Ada didn't take any of this badly. "You're an older model – "

 _I know that!_ Alan stood up, and when he'd done so he threw the screwdriver so hard it embedded itself in the wall a good twenty metres away. _I meant I want you to love me like you love her!_

He didn't have anything to say. He let Alan leave, didn't get up. Just sat there on the floor and stared down at the notch Alan had left behind. Something had tightened in his chest.

Where had Alan even _learned_ about that concept? Just how smart _was_ he? Would he even _listen_ if Edward came up with an explanation?

 _Was_ there an explanation?

* * *

A few hours later he tracked Alan down; he was sitting in the factory, looking up at the conveyors that would eventually carry the completed robots down the line for use. He took a breath and sat down in front of him. Alan ignored this.

"Alan," he said, without preamble, "I've been thinking over this for hours. And I don't know what to say to you. I don't know what will make this right. So if you happen to, go ahead and tell me. I'll wait."

And he folded his hands together. He meant it. But he still hoped, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it wouldn't take too long. He was trying, he really was, and he _knew_ this would decide how Alan treated him in future, but there was a part of his brain that just _did not stop_ working.

 _I don't know_ , Alan said after a few minutes. _There isn't anything. Anything you could say might also just be you trying to make me feel better._

He elected not to comment.

 _I guess I just want to know what it is I didn't do._

"Didn't do?"

Alan nodded. _I feel like I did everything I could to be the best son I could be. But it didn't make you happy. Only she makes you happy._

It certainly looked that way, didn't it.

"It's not your fault."

He had to swallow and look away when he realised he was saying something he'd always wanted to hear from someone else. He should have thought this part through before… oh, he should have thought _all_ of this through before throwing himself into advanced AI like this.

"You do make me happy. But in a different way. Ada is… special. And I don't mean you're not. But I… I made you too smart." He was clasping his hands together a little too hard. "It's hard for me not to see you as someone to pit myself against. That's my fault, not yours. But it makes it hard for me to… stop being guarded around you."

Alan said nothing, digging his fingers into the dirt. Edward was doing his best to come up with something satisfactory and failing. Just like –

No. That was wrong.

"Do you like her?" he asked after a minute. Alan shrugged.

 _I don't want to._

"You made her possible. She wouldn't exist without you. You can be proud of that."

 _I can't be. I made her to replace me._

"She _didn't_ replace you," Edward told him. "She isn't you. She _can't_ replace you. Alan, I don't…" God, he hated saying this. "I don't know what you want me to do."

 _I think a hug would be nice._

He felt somewhat relieved. _That_ wasn't a hard fix!

"That's all you wanted? Why didn't you just ask?"

Alan wouldn't look at him, though Edward couldn't tell if it were because he was angry or not. _She doesn't have to ask._

"She _doesn't_ ask. She just climbs on me. She never says a word, you know that."

Alan turned around a little. _I thought she only talked to you_.

Edward shook his head. "Not even me."

 _I didn't… code something wrong, did I? She doesn't talk because she doesn't want to, right?_

"If she answered questions, I would ask her. For now I'm just going to let her be." He crossed his legs, folding his hands into them. "Do you want a hug, Alan?"

Alan nodded and scrambled into his lap; he did his best to contain a wince, as Alan was… not the softest robot ever invented. But he couldn't show that, as doing so would cause Alan to feel even more rejected and upset. And he hadn't meant to ever do that. He had to head it off now, before –

No, he wasn't going to start thinking that way. He was different. He was better. He would _do_ better.

They both looked up at a sudden clamour; it seemed Ada had become either bored or lonely and looked to track some company down. She immediately inserted herself into the embrace and Edward hoped this had not ruined what he was trying to fix. He smiled to see that Alan had given her space beneath his arm as well.

He was not unhappy, though, when Alan sat back on the floor again. His legs were starting to go numb and both of them had been pressing into him rather hard. But… when he thought about it, it really didn't _hurt_ that much. If he did end up bruising, it was almost going to be… _proof_ that he'd done something right, here.

"I'm sure if you ask, Ada will give you a hug anytime you want," Edward said, readjusting his pants. The seam had gotten displaced. Ada nodded, enthused, but Alan said,

 _Sometimes it just has to be from your dad._

Abruptly Edward pushed the both of them away. From your dad. Right.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ada regard Alan with a sad decline of her head, and he told her, _Go find Nikola for a minute._

After she had run off, Alan just continued sitting there, hanging onto his thumbs again. Edward was a little bit stuck in time, having been reminded of something he could not have and doing his best to keep from thinking on it any further.

 _I'm sorry,_ Alan said after a minute or so. _I forgot you don't like your dad. I thought that would make you happy._

"It's not your fault," Edward forced himself to say. It wasn't. But there was some nagging at the back of his mind that was telling him Alan should have known, should have _thought_ , and he had to waylay it. He couldn't expect Alan to always remember everything.

 _Just tell me one thing I can do_ , Alan said, looking at him intently. _One thing I can do to make you happy._

"Alan, can you just… drop this?" This was going to bring his headache back.

 _No._

He removed his glasses and pressed one hand into his eyes. "Alan, you don't need to make me happy. You're..." What word even _fit_ here? "You're a relief."

 _I'm sorry?_

He knew he should probably _look_ at Alan as he said this, but his head remained immobile. "You're the only one who has ever been able to keep up with me. I've been smarter than everyone I know my entire life. My intelligence has been… everything. And I like it that way. I'm intellectually superior because I deserve to be. But… it wears on you. It's exhausting. To _always be_ the _only one_ , it becomes frustrating! I will always be the smartest person in the room, _that's_ a given, but can there not be at least one person who understands a _modicum_ of what I have to say?" He had to force his breaths back to calm. Alan didn't need to see him being worked up like that. It would only worry him further. "But now you exist, Alan. You do understand. And that thought doesn't bring happiness, not exactly. But it's nice to know there's someone that knows what I'm talking about."

 _You were lonely_ , Alan said. _That's why I'm not like Nikola. You wanted company._

He opened his mouth to refute the suggestion, but… could find nothing wrong with it.

Was _that_ why he had been so involved in continuously improving the AI for no real benefit at all? Beginning with Nikola, who did not care for him, to Alan who did, to Ada who only left his side when told…

Huh.

Alan moved across the floor, right in front of Edward where he would be forced to look at him, and said very seriously, _So what can I help you with?_

He began to think of what to say, before deciding just to say it without thinking.

"Well, I have to finish the robot factory, two hundred forty-one trophies and their respective puzzles, a mechanical exoskeleton, and a special deathtrap… but there is _one_ thing you and I should do. It's something of a…" He almost wasn't able to pronounce the next words. "… a father-son activity."

 _What is it?_ Alan asked, leaning forward in eagerness. Edward put his glasses back on.

"I'm building a car. But it's an exact replica of another car, without ever having come in actual contact with said car. It's a bit of a challenge, but I believe I'm up to it. Are you?"

 _Yes_ , Alan said firmly, and when he stood up he held out his hand for Edward to take. After a minute, he did.

After Edward had started walking out of the factory Alan said, a little cautiously, _Do you want Ada to come_?

Edward shook his head. "I think you can help me just fine yourself."

Alan nodded once, and Edward smiled. Yes, Alan was smarter than he was in some ways, and it was always going to dig at him just a little bit. Well, sometimes a great deal more than that. But it wasn't Alan's fault. He wasn't going to lay blame at his son's feet for something he had no autonomy in.

 _Dad, when you go back to meet Tesla and Lovelace, can you take me to see Turing?_

"Of course," Edward said. "You would blow his mind."

They walked quietly for another minute before Alan said, _I'm glad I was here to help you with Ada, Dad._

"I couldn't have done it without you," Edward said, in all seriousness. And… admitting it didn't bother him. He really couldn't have done it without Alan. Without his son. Who had been doing his best all along, and Edward had refused to listen out of pride. He had to do better. So he would _be_ better than…

The comparisons _really_ needed to stop. He didn't need to _be_ better, he already _was_. He was trying, perhaps not in the right ways but he was _trying_ , and that was more than _he'd_ ever gotten.

 _I'm glad you were lonely. I like existing._

Well, when he put it _that_ way, it _did_ sound fortunate. He put an arm around Alan's shoulders, and though he glanced up for a moment he didn't seem to dislike it.

"And I'm… I'm proud to have you as…" Oh, but if he said it he made it _real_. He had to actually _accept_ that responsibility, rather than manoeuvre around it as he had been doing since Nikola had been made.

 _As what, Dad?_

"… as my son."

Alan looked at the ground.

 _I don't know why these things bother you, but I hope you can tell me about your dad one day. Maybe then it won't make you so sad._

"I will," he said. He didn't know _when_ – it could be next week, it could be a decade from now – but he meant it. He _would_ tell Alan, because of the three of them Alan was his most similar. Alan needed to know, just like he did. "But not now. There are more important things to think about."

 _I don't agree with you_ , Alan said, _but all right._

And that was fine for now. Just like _he_ was, and maybe that wasn't where he should have been. Maybe he should have been happier, or more enthused, but he wasn't and that was fine for now. He would get there with the aid of what he had, and what he had was far better than good enough.


End file.
